Repercussions
by Zab Jade
Summary: After the events of the Boxer Rebellion, Angel realizes that Dru and Spike will still obey him. He drags them down the road to redemption, eventually ending up as demon hunters in L.A. with several visits throughout the years to the Hellmouth where Spike and Buffy form an odd friendship. When the Initiative kills Dru and captures Spike, Buffy and Angel have to rescue him.
1. Chapter 1

**Repercussions**

 **Chapter One**

 **Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Summary:** After the events of the Boxer Rebellion, Angel realizes that, while Darla may want nothing to do with him anymore, Dru and Spike will still obey him, even if reluctantly in the case of the latter. He drags them down the road to redemption, eventually ending up as demon hunters in L.A. with several visits throughout the years to the Sunnydale Hellmouth where Spike and the current slayer form an odd friendship. When the Initiative kills Dru and captures Spike, Buffy and Angel have to rescue a chipped and catatonic Spike and bring him back to himself.

 **Author's Note:** While this will eventually be Spuffy, there will also be a lot of Spike and Dru in the beginning, plus some one-sided Angel/Spike all throughout that will remain one-sided. Some of the dialogue and scenes in this chapter are from the episode "Welcome to the Hellmouth." Allusions to past rape, but no details, graphic or otherwise.

 **…**

He could feel it somewhere inside of him. The call of his sire and the Master, trying to summon him to the Hellmouth. Part of him just wanted to ignore it. To wallow in his misery and guilt and just let the Master's Harvest happen. Dru and the minions wouldn't care. Spike, however…. Angel sighed and rubbed his eyes.

He knew the younger vampire didn't give a shit about good or evil in the grand scheme of things as long as he could take care of Dru and get into fights, but listlessness irritated him. Anytime he got like this, Spike would bitch about it, insisting that anything worth doing had to be done with everything you had, that you had to fling yourself into it or you might as well not do it at all. When Angel had made the decision to try to make Dru and Spike be good, he'd never dreamed that _Spike_ would end up being the one dragging _him_ kicking and screaming to his own redemption.

The door was suddenly kicked open, and Spike, as if summoned by Angel's thoughts, stomped into the three-bedroom apartment, both hands full of plastic grocery bags. "Gather 'round, kiddies," he called out, "din-din's here."

The young woman curled up at the other end of the couch Angel was sitting on and the girl across from him in the recliner both got up and headed for the kitchen. Yet another young woman and a small, nervous-looking young man came out of one of the bedrooms. They had more minions – all found and recruited as fledglings rather than made – but only these four were currently staying with them. They were trusted enough to be let out of the nest but weren't ready to be out on their own just yet.

"Had to dust one of the nestlings," Spike said as he put the bags on the kitchen table and started handing out containers of pig's blood. Angel didn't bother going for his share. He'd finished off the old stuff earlier. "He was whinging on about not getting to eat humans."

"You know, you probably wouldn't have as much trouble with that if _you_ didn't still eat humans," one of the girls pointed out. She was small – barely fifteen when she was turned almost a year ago – with glossy chestnut hair and big brown eyes.

Angel thought her name might have been Gwen, but he wasn't sure, he didn't really pay a lot of attention to the minions. They had been Spike's idea, and he was the one who handled them. He left weird little pamphlets titled "Killing Demons for Fun and Profit, but not Humans Because the Souled-Up Wanker Gets Moody about It" at the cemeteries and interviewed the vampires who showed up in response.

His excuse was that Angel had to think big picture if he was serious about this whole redemption thing, but the older vampire privately thought it was because Spike was a little bit of a mother hen and didn't have enough chicks with just him and Dru. Of course, Spike's version of being a mother hen came with a heavy dose of boot to the head if you annoyed him too much.

" _I_ get to eat humans because _I_ have enough self-control to catch and release. Now, quit sassing me and drink your swine, missy. You're too skinny."

Maybe-Gwen snorted and turned towards the microwave. "Whatever… mama bear." The last was muttered under her breath.

"Oi! I heard that!" Spike grumped, giving her a light whack upside the head.

That particular nickname had been in use since the days when Julie Owens had lived in the apartment. A vampire older and much bigger than Spike had tried to force her to work at his suck house. The bleach blond had managed to take him out through sheer reckless fury over the fact that someone had tried to take one of his "cubs" against her will. Julie did a lot of the day-to-day running of the nest and liked to tell that story.

Angel shook his head and tuned out the familiar sounds of the minions squabbling over the microwave, his thoughts turning back to the Master and Darla. He'd heard from Crowley only the day before that the slayer's mother had been manipulated into moving to Sunnydale. He'd always meant to meet the girl while she was still here in L.A., but just hadn't gotten around to it.

He was actually relieved that the meet and greet hadn't happened. The last time they'd had much to do with a slayer, they'd ended up in New York for eleven years with Spike as her patrolling partner and the on-call babysitter for her son. Angel was still terrified at how close to death the younger vampire had come in that final battle by Nikki's side.

Almost as terrifying was the thought of what the Council of Watchers might do if they ever discovered it was working with a vampire that had led to a slayer making it all the way to thirty-three. He wasn't entirely sure what that would be, or even if they'd do anything at all, but he wouldn't be at all surprised if they tried to capture and brainwash Spike into being a good little pet vampire to help their slayers.

 _I'll just leave Spike and Dru here tomorrow night while I pop over to Sunnydale and find the slayer. I'll give her some cryptic advice to help her, and_ she _can deal with it all. It_ is _her job, aft-_

His thoughts were cut off by something bouncing off the side of his head and landing with a thud beside him on the couch. He was just barely able to catch the second boot before it could smack into his head as well. He scowled at Spike, getting a smug smirk in return. A quick glance around showed that the others had gone to their rooms, probably bedding down since it was only an hour or so until dawn.

"Sorry, mate, looked like you were about to turn to stone with all that brooding," Spike said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. He hung up the coat Robin had given him as a keepsake at Nikki's funeral nine years ago and glanced down the short hallway towards the master bedroom. "Dru been holed up in there all night?" he asked with a slight frown.

"She said she had to pack for a tea party with your sunshine's green fairy, whatever that means." After more than a century, he should have been an expert on Drusilla's ramblings, but she just never really made any sense to him.

Spike snorted in amusement and flopped down on the couch next to him after moving his boot to the floor. Angel dropped the one he was still holding to join its sibling.

"That one's fairly easy to figure out, even for someone with as thick a Neanderthal brow as you've got, gramps. I've a Cat, a Blinky, a Twinkle, and a Twitchy, and that's just the lot that lives here right now. Apparently, I'm gonna end up with a Sunshine when we go to take care of ol' Batface and the great grand hag. And Sunshine will have some little kiddie hanging about that Dru thinks is a green fairy."

Angel abruptly stood up and started pacing. "No, no, no. There will be no 'taking care of' the Master and Darla. I'm just going to- "

"Please tell me you aren't planning to just pop in, give the slayer a cryptic message, and then pop right back out," Spike said. At Angel's defensive look, he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes hard enough that the older vampire was actually worried for a second that they might fall out and go bouncing across the floor. "I swear, if I wasn't here to look after you, you'd be a smelly, rat-eating hobo by now."

"Better than being a hobo-eating rat," Angel muttered, hoping to get Spike ticked off enough to yell at him to go off and do his own thing and not come crying to him if it went wrong. Of course, the more likely outcome was- The steel toe of a boot bounced off his forehead hard enough to break the skin.

"Not a rat, and I haven't snacked on a hobo since '73. Bloke had more drugs in 'im than all five of the flower people from Woodstock put together. That was way too trippy, even for me."

"You know, violence isn't the answer to everything," Angel grumbled, glaring at him as he rubbed the already mostly healed wound. He really wished Spike's boot to the head method of tough love wasn't quite so literal at times.

"No, but it's a hell of a lot of fun," the other vampire said cheerfully. "Very cathartic. Now then, here's a better idea. You call up Crowley and have him get in touch with the girl's watcher to set up your bona fides. Then we pack up Dru and the kiddies tomorrow night and head for Sunnydale to help."

"No!" Angel snarled, starting to pace again. He couldn't stop Spike from going after demons – he was pretty sure the blond would rather be dusted than give up fighting – but he could damn well do his best to keep him away from slayers. It was only because of Dru's visions and blood that Spike had recovered from that last fight by Nikki's side. "No more slayers. They come with a short shelf life, and playing with them is just going to get you killed."

Spike growled and jumped up to his feet, one hand violently running through his hair in anger. Corkscrew curls sprang out every which way, defiantly celebrating their sudden freedom from the tyranny of hair gel.

"I'm not livin' in a sodding bubble just because you need someone to manage your life and be your bloody teddy bear when the nightmares get to you. You can stay here and whinge and mope if you want, but the rest of us are going. If I get dusted… well," he flashed an evil little smirk, "you and the bright shiny soul will just have to sit there and wonder if you could have stopped it."

"Spike…" Angel began, trying desperately to think of some way to put a stop to things. Panic at the thought of losing the one person who knew how to make the horrible guilt weigh on him less threatened to overwhelm him.

The smaller vampire just held up a hand and shook his head. "You said it yourself, Dru's already packin'. Me an' her are going. The only mind you can change now is your own. I'm gonna get Dru fed. I'd 'preciate it if you'd call Crowley and at least get him to talk to the other watcher about me and Dru. Don't particularly wanna get staked by the little chit while I'm trying to help her."

Without another word, he heated up a mug of blood before stalking off to the master bedroom.

Angel sighed in defeat and went to the telephone, punching in Crowley's number from memory. If the little idiot was going to go no matter what, he didn't really have much choice about going along. Even as he talked to the man and got everything situated, half of his attention was on the largest of the rooms down the hall.

He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear the gentle, sweet tone Spike's voice took on whenever he spoke to his princess, followed by a whine from Dru, probably about how much she hated the animal blood. Then more soft words, followed by a silence and Dru's playful growls. He almost broke the phone as he hung up, his hands clenching with what he knew was unreasonable jealousy as the mingled scents of pain and arousal reached him.

He drifted down the hall and gently rested his head against the door, his hand sliding down into his pants as he listened in. Soft little moans and cries of pained enjoyment, Dru's muffled shrieks of pleasure. The ambrosial scent of Spike's blood, no doubt spilled as a treat to wash the taste of pig out of the mad seer's mouth.

He closed his eyes and visualized them as he touched himself. They were probably naked in the bed together by this point, Spike pinned beneath his dark goddess as her nails sliced through his flesh. Sometimes they switched things up, but usually she was the dominant one during sex, unleashing her sadistic streak on a willing partner.

"That's it, kitten, take whatever you need, all for you, baby," soft, breathy words gasped out in complete love and adoration. "Only for you."

Angel bit his lip and stroked himself harder, hating Dru just a little at that moment and hating himself for feeling that way. After all he'd done to her, he had no right to begrudge the fact that she had someone who loved her. He gasped and shuddered as Spike continued murmuring to her, finally reaching his climax only moments before Drusilla's squeal of completion.

He pushed away from the door and made his way back to the living room, disgusted with himself – as he always was – for his voyeurism. There were more sounds and scents coming from that room, but he forced himself to ignore it this time. He paced restlessly for a few moments before grabbing a book and flinging himself on the couch.

He could go in there at any time, it was his room, too, after all. Hell, he could have gone in earlier and watched them, and neither would have cared as long as he didn't try to participate. Actually, Dru would have welcomed that last idea, but Spike would have been pissed.

It was three hours before he went back to the master bedroom, this time going inside and changing into a pair of sweatpants. He stared for a few seconds at the sleeping figures on the bed, naked and curled together in a tangle of pale limbs, Drusilla a picture of flawless beauty and Spike covered in half-healed cuts, bruises, and bites. He quietly slipped in beside them, curling his body around Spike's and drifting off to sleep.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

 _He was stalking her through the streets, letting her hear a single footstep every so often. By now, she'd be wondering if she was crazy or if someone really was after her. Just as she was about to reach a more populate area, he rushed forward, snatching the hope of safety away and locking her in terror. His fangs descended, ready to pierce her throat…_

…and then there was a sharp pain in his scalp as his hair was grabbed and used to wrench his head to the side. It was his own neck that was pierced, fangs tearing savagely, ripping his flesh and letting his blood spill out. He welcomed the pain. It was what he deserved, but before it could do more than start to make him feel better about himself, it was gone, the fangs replaced by a soft tongue lapping away the blood as the wounds closed.

"Shh. S'okay now. You've been punished," gentle words whispered in his ear as Angel fully awakened to the familiar weight of the body holding him down. At some point, he'd rolled away from his personal security blanket, letting the nightmares in.

Fingers ghosted through his hair, petting and comforting. The affectionate nip at his earlobe with human teeth and the slight, enticing wiggle of the slender hips pressing down on his own were just as much of a punishment as the bite had been. They were meant to be.

Angel swallowed hard, fighting the urge to flip them over and just take what he wanted. He'd done it hundreds of times in the nearly twenty years he'd spent soulless in the other vampire's company and twice after the soul, when he'd been trying to be evil enough for Darla to take him back.

There was a soft rustle of movement to the side, followed by a murmur of Spike's name.

"Right here, pet," he said quietly, rolling away from Angel to snuggle with Dru. "Always here for you, princess."

Dru lifted her head to peer over his shoulder at her sire. "Hush now, Daddy, no more nasty dreams. Miss Edith will be cross with us all if she's too tired to have tea with my William's green fairy."

"My green fairy, is it?" Spike asked, nibbling at her neck. "Thought she belonged to my Sunshine."

"Both are yours, but in different ways. The green fairy tisn't really real just yet, though we think she is. You'll feel it from the start, but when the paper doll becomes a real girl, you'll know."

"That so?" Spike mumbled sleepily.

"Sleep now," was Dru's response. She reached past him to tug at Angel's arm, drawing him close. "Sleep. Busy night to come. Must get a gift for Sunshine to keep the monsters at bay."

Angel sighed, letting Dru's nonsense soothe him towards sleep as he once more cuddled up against Spike.

"Don't fancy biting you again tonight, so stay put this time," the other man grumbled. "And for fuck's sake, stop chugging the swine after it's gone off. The rancid ham aftertaste you have is truly appalling."

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Buffy stared into the mirror, holding a shiny black dress against herself. "Hi! I'm an enormous slut!" she said brightly before switching to a floral print dress. "Hello, would you like a copy of 'The Watchtower'?" She sighed heavily. "I used to be so good at this."

She shot a glare over her shoulder at her little sister as the girl snickered from her perch on the bed. "What are you even doing in here? Shouldn't you be doing homework or playing with dolls, or something?"

Dawn bounced across the bed and off of it before flouncing towards her sister's closet. "Already finished it, and I'm eleven now, not ten. I don't play with dolls anymore," she insisted, as she poked through the clothes.

Before Buffy could shoo the girl away, their mom came in, asking about her plans for the night. She clung desperately to the normality of it all. She was just a normal girl with a mother and a sister, doing normal things like getting ready to go to a club to meet potential friends. It was all normal. _Normal._

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Later that evening, Buffy was still focused on thoughts of being normal as she walked down a dark street. Those thoughts were shattered by the sudden feeling that she was being followed. She kept her pace the same, not wanting to give away the fact that she was aware of her pursuer.

She ducked down an alley as soon as she could, eyes darting as she scanned for the perfect ambush site. A grin slipped out as she glanced up. She hated the slaying part of being the slayer, but she had to admit the powers themselves were pretty nifty. She ran forward, her muscles tensing as she leaped up into the air to grab the bar stretching across the alley. She propelled herself up into a perfect handstand just as a man came into the alley.

She waited, muscles straining in an oddly pleasant way as he slowly advanced, trying to figure out where she'd gone. Once he was past, she swung down, pulling the force of the blow just as her feet slammed into his back, just in case it was a human and not a vampire. He staggered forward with a cry of pain.

"Gonna cut you, bitch!" he snarled, turning around, a switch blade in his hand.

Buffy shifted into a fighting stance, but before she could let out a snappy comeback, something really weird happened. Both she and her would-be attacker stared, stupefied, as a twenty dollar bill attached to a fishing hook and line dropped down to dangle in front of the man's face. It jerked up a bit, then came back down to bounce off of his head a couple of times.

"What the…?" he grabbed it, his eyes widening in sudden panic. "I-I can't let go!"

Buffy's jaw dropped as he was yanked upwards with a terrified scream. _Not my business. Just a normal girl. And it's not like I'm the weirdo fisherman slayer or anything….. And… and the guy was totally going to try to do something awful…..Phooey._ With a sigh, she leaped back up onto the bar, this time using it to launch herself up onto the roof of the closest building.

A discarded fishing pole and a half-empty case of beers sat next to the slightly twitching, unconscious body of a vampire's victim. The vampire in question – dressed mostly in black with the only color being a khaki fishing hat with lures all over it and a red button-down between his long leather jacket and t-shirt – had his fangs in the guy from the alley.

She ran at him, but he dropped his prey – still alive – and whirled away at the last second. He stumbled and fell on his butt, blinking and looking a little dazed as he shook away his gameface to show attractive human features.

"Bloody hell, I think that first bloke was on something," he muttered in a sexily accented voice. He flashed her a slightly manic grin as he got to his feet. He was twitching and swaying slightly. "'Lo there, Sunshine."

"Hello, yourself, Twitchy," she said, taking a fighting stance for the second time that night.

The vampire laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Twitchy is the nervous li'l fella I recruited from the nest last week."

"Yeah, cause I really care about your personal life," Buffy said sarcastically as she launched herself at him.

He whirled out of the way again, grabbing her arm as he did so and spinning her around as if he thought it was some kind of dance. The fight continued on like that – strike, dodge, block, spinning and weaving along the rooftop – until the vampire tripped over his own feet, the fact that he was apparently at least a little bit high getting in the way of what seemed like natural grace.

The ridiculous fishing hat fell off as he sprawled on his back, revealing platinum blond hair that was mostly slicked back. A few curly tendrils had escaped to stick out in random directions. Buffy pounced on him before he could get back on his feet, belatedly realizing that she didn't have a stake.

He laughed up at her, eyes bright. "Fabulous dance, love, though neither of us is at their best, now are we? We'll have to try it again sometime." He bucked her off of him, then stood up, balancing precariously on the edge of the roof. "Before I go, a gift to you from my lady."

He reached into his coat and tossed something at her, bowing with a flourish as it sailed through the air. The movement unbalanced him, and he fell off the edge, a bellow of "bloody, buggering fuck!" following him down.

Buffy instinctively caught the object, then darted to the edge and looked down. The vampire got to his feet and staggered away, cursing the entire time. She was about to go after him, but was stopped by the moans and grumbles of the two victims. She glanced at them, then to the object in her hand. It was a silver cross necklace wrapped in a handkerchief.

Why would a vampire leave his victims alive? And why would he give her a cross, supposedly as a gift from his "lady"? She looked at the victims again, then at the necklace, and finally down to where she'd last seen the now gone bloodsucker. She had the feeling she'd just fought the world's weirdest vampire… and it had been a heck of a lot of fun.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Joyce unlocked the door and carried a bag of groceries in with her, her younger daughter not far behind her. Unfortunately, not far was just far enough. A male vampire slipped in between them, grabbing the girl.

"Dawn!" Joyce screamed in frightened rage at her little girl's shriek. She ran at him, smashing a jar of pickles against his head. "Let go of my daughter!"

The vampire dropped Dawn, snarling as he turned to face his attacker. Before he could retaliate, there was a flash of movement and a pale, delicate hand closed around his throat from behind.

"Naughty, naughty. Not for the likes of you to touch my sweet boy's fairy."

Joyce watched in shock as the end of a stick suddenly poked through the man's chest, turning him to dust and revealing a strange, dark haired woman. The woman smiled vacantly at her before turning towards Dawn, bending a little at the waist to be closer to her eye level.

"Hello there. Would you like to play with me, li'l fairy? Miss Edith is ever so excited to meet you."

"Th-thank you for your help," Joyce stuttered out, feeling numb with shock. _That man just exploded into dust!_ "But… you, you need to leave now."

The woman turned back to her, the smile both sly and playful now. She began to sway, her arm coming up, two fingers held out towards her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Repercussions**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Author's Note:** Some dialogue and scenes taken from "Welcome to the Hellmouth". Special thanks to Sigyn for the beta.

 **…**

The high from fighting a slayer was still singing through Spike's system as he limped through the streets of Sunnydale. She'd been magnificent. Well, okay, she'd been kind of awkward and her technique raw and unpolished, but it had still been magnificent. Beneath the inexperience and reluctance, he'd sensed the heart of a feisty little spitfire.

As the limp from his fall off the roof cleared up, he started bouncing a little. The bounce transformed into the movements from the fight as he went over it in his head. He twirled around and ducked an imaginary blow, laughing in sheer delight. So much potential locked up in that little girl. She could easily be another Nikki. Hell, she had the potential to be _better_ than Nikki.

He froze, eyes widening slightly at that thought. If she lived long enough…if she got the right training and the right support…. _Magnificent won't even hold a candle to what she'd become,_ he thought reverently.

While the actual demon fighting was as fun as always, training humans to fight fledglings and fledglings to fight demons had been getting boring as of late. Helping to train a _slayer_ though…. He could imagine it so easily. Sparring with her, patrolling with her, guarding her back as she grew into her powers. It would be glorious. And just the idea of it would seriously brass off Angel.

He snorted and shook his head as he continued on towards the hotel. _Yeah, well, Angel isn't the boss of me, now is he? Not going to be his bubble-wrapped cuddle toy._ It was _Dru_ who was the boss of him, and while Angel was essentially the boss of her, he never really ordered her around much these days beyond keeping her from harming or eating anyone.

A payphone suddenly caught his eye and he veered towards it. There was a phone at the hotel, but that didn't mean he'd get a chance to use it. Dru had practically shoved him out the door earlier with instructions on where to hunt. There was no telling what she'd be on at him to do once he got back.

 _Best to just make my call now,_ he thought as he grabbed the phone and dialed the number on his most recent phone card. The second number he punched in had changed a couple of times over the years, but it was the same person he'd called every night when possible for the past nearly nine years.

"This is Robin Wood," a voice answered in a nicely professional tone after exactly three rings.

"Hey, Sprog."

"Uncle Will." The voice immediately lost its teacher demeanor in exchange for an easy warmth. "Still planning on taking the newbies to clear out those gross eyeball demons you were telling me about?"

"Nah, that's postponed a bit. Family reunion of sorts going on in Sunnydale. The bat-faced wanker is trying a jail break, and the slayer is gonna need a hand to keep him in his place."

There was a heavy silence, and Spike knew Robin was thinking of that night nine years ago. The night his mum had died, and Spike had ended up in pretty bad shape, his ribs crushed, spine snapped, and roughly seventy percent of his body burnt nearly to a crisp. Considering the amount of pain he'd been in _after_ Dru's ritual, he'd always been grateful he'd been unconscious both before and during it.

"How old is she?" Robin asked quietly, finally breaking the silence.

"About fifteen or sixteen, I think. Just a li'l baby slayer. I'll do what I can to keep her alive. I won't fail her like I did your mum."

Most of the time, he could think of Nikki and just focus on the good times, on how fun it had been fighting vampires and demons by her side. Right now, though…. _Never enough for any of the women in my life. Never have been and never will be,_ he thought, suddenly feeling tired.

"Damn it, Will," Robin said with a sigh, "you didn't fail her. You know how she was when you first met her. I was too little at the time to understand, but you know she had a death wish. She was tired of the burden of fighting alone. Because of you, she's the longest lived slayer in recorded history, so don't you dare tell me you failed her."

Robin did have a point about the death wish, but still….

"This new girl is young," Robin continued, "if she starts out with support and someone watching her back, maybe she'll never get that death wish at all. I'm warning you, though, you get dusted, and I'll find a way to bring you back just so I can stake your pasty-white British ass myself, you hear me?"

"Sorry, Sprog, but only Dru is allowed to get that kinky with a stake," Spike retorted, diving into the snark to bury his lingering feelings of inadequacy.

"You do realize you're paying for the therapy I'm going to need to get rid of that mental image, right?"

"Aww, did I traumatize your twee li'l psyche?" Spike mocked, his good mood from earlier starting to come back.

"Fuck you, Will," the human said affectionately.

"Now, now, we just established that that's Drusilla's job."

Spike grinned at the other man's exasperated sigh. He could easily imagine the eye roll that had no doubt accompanied it. God, he loved talking to the boy. He could tease and be a jackass as much as he wanted without having to worry about setting off a broodfest or one of Dru's episodes.

"Seriously, though, be careful, okay? You have to live for several more centuries, because as long as you're around, someone remembers Mom. A piece of her will keep on living as long as you do."

Several snarky comments popped into his head at Robin's quiet words – most of them along the lines of the fact that couldn't live for several centuries because he'd been dead for over one – but he didn't say any of them. He also most definitely did _not_ get all misty eyed. There was just a lot of dust in the phone booth or something.

"I'll be careful, Sprog. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah. You can tell me all about your playdate with the slayer."

Spike hung up, swiping the absolutely dust-caused moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand. He had _not_ gotten all teary-eyed over the thought of Nikki having a measure of immortality through his memories. And he was not composing odes to her bravery and sense of style in his head…. Bugger it. At least Dru had packed a couple of his notebooks.

He took a detour on his way back to the hotel, going past the college to snack on a few lovely little coeds. So much tastier than nasty alley trash. He wanted to kill them – he always wanted to kill his victims, to drink down the sweetness of their lives until the peace filled their eyes and death carried their souls away – but he left the girls no worse than if they'd donated at a blood drive.

They were so easy to find, too. The girls who had that special little tick to their scent that said they were looking for a bit of a thrill. They gave it up willingly, trading the taste of something sweet for a spot of excitement, a skilled flirtation rather than the tawdry prostitution of the suck houses.

At first, he'd hunted without killing because Angel demanded it, and Dru wanted them both to please him by giving in to his weird, soul-induced whims. By now, though, it was a matter of pride. Neither Angel nor Dru could be trusted to take their blood straight from the tap, but he could be.

The fresh, untainted blood cleared his head the rest of the way and healed the few lingering aches and pains from his fight with the slayer and subsequent fall from the roof. Hunting taken care of for now, he continued on to the hotel.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

From the moment she'd looked deeply into Mistress Drusilla's eyes, Joyce had felt a little bit like she was underwater. Everything was buoyant and calm and kind of floaty. She was sitting on a couch in a nice hotel suite, trying not to giggle at the wary looks she was getting from most of the vampires. Here she was with five vampires, and four of them were acting like she might suddenly decide to drink _their_ blood.

The fifth vampire – Mistress Drusilla – was sitting at the table in the kitchenette with Dawn and a couple of dolls, having tea. The young girl was listening attentively to the Mistress's whispered words and jotting things down in a slightly worn looking notebook.

One of the other vampires – a girl who looked around Buffy's age – slowly approached her with a box of Chinese takeout. All of the vampires were eating human food for some reason. The Mistress was sharing little sandwiches and cakes with Dawn while the other four had the Chinese.

"Hi, I'm Gwen," the girl said, smiling nervously as she offered the food and a fork. "It's chicken fried rice, if you want some."

"Thank you, Gwen," Joyce said, taking the carton and fork. "I thought vampires just needed blood. Why are you all eating human food?"

They all looked perfectly human, but Mistress Drusilla had said they were vampires, so they had to be vampires. Good vampires, though, so her baby wouldn't have to kill them. Part of her was trying to gibber in panic at the thought of Buffy being some kind of mystical chosen one who was supposed to fight monsters, but the Mistress had told her to be calm.

"Oh, that's one of ma-… Spike's, rules," the girl said, her demeanor changing slightly as she spoke of this Spike person. She suddenly seemed more confident. "He says that the more we act like humans, the more likely we are to keep what humanity we have. So, we have to eat human food at least once a day. We also have to read the paper and watch TV to keep up with current events. Spike says it's important to stay in touch with the human world or we just won't care."

"Spike says this, Spike says that," one of the two blonde women said mockingly. "Better not let Angel catch you mooning over his boyfriend, or he'll throw you out in the sun."

Joyce watched the confrontation calmly, knowing she should be at least a little bit alarmed as Gwen glared and growled at the other vampire. Everything was alright. The Mistress had told her so.

"You shut your mouth, Amber! Spike is not the ponce's boyfriend. He's dedicated to Dru and would _never_ be with anyone else, not even Angel!"

"Daddy doesn't play that way with my boy any longer, not even when I ask nicely," Mistress Drusilla said suddenly, her voice a sort of wistful pout. "He used to make him bleed so prettily. Sometimes, he even made my sweet boy cry. At times he plays with me that way, but he never does beat me anymore. Such a bad daddy."

"Oh, he'll beat you for bringing these humans here," Amber said nastily. "He'll get rid of your thralled pet and your new little sister there."

Drusilla jerked as if she'd been slapped, and Joyce suddenly found herself plunged fully back into reality. Fear flooded through her, but she stood up anyway and slowly made her way towards Dawn just as the madwoman began to scream.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

"The uh… the Harvest, you say?" the man standing next to him asked, still staring at him like he was a fascinating bug he wanted for his collection.

Angel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, really wishing the watcher had agreed to meet him anywhere but here. While the upper level where they stood was much less crowded, the teeming mass of young people down below was distracting. He couldn't seem to stop himself from thinking of how easy it would be to find a lonely little thing and separate her from the herd. He could play with her, build up her terror, and no one would even notice. He'd even point that out as he played with her before finally letting his fangs….

He shivered, doing his best to pull himself from his dark thoughts. _Where the hell is Spike when I need him?_ he thought in annoyance, ignoring the fact that he'd been relieved earlier when Dru had sent the younger vampire off to hunt. If Spike had been there, he'd have smacked him upside the head and told him to, "quit faffing about like a gormless twit." The repeated head trauma was kind of annoying, but it did help keep him grounded.

"Yes, the Harvest," Angel said in response to Giles. "Look, can we go somewhere else? This place is…." He trailed off and shook his head, not wanting to voice how uncomfortable it made him. "I understand you wanting somewhere public, but isn't there a coffee shop we could go to or something?"

Giles grimaced in obvious distaste. "Yes, well, this, this isn't exactly where I would have normally chosen, but I'm hoping the slayer will show up so I can convince her to do her duty."

"Hoping the…. Wait, you mean you don't have any kind of control over your slayer? And she'd rather go clubbing than do her job?"

"Uh, yes, that, that is the gist of it, unfortunately," Giles said with a sigh as he leaned against the railing to look down over the crowd. He perked up a bit suddenly and pointed. "Ah, good. There she is."

Angel followed the line of his arm to where a blonde girl was sitting at the bar with a redhead. She looked up at them suddenly, her eyes narrowing in obvious annoyance. She said something to the other girl, stood up, said something else, then headed purposefully towards the stairs to the upper level. Just a few moments later, she had found them.

"So, you like to party with the students," she said disrespectfully to her watcher. She was a feisty one. That wasn't good. "Isn't that kinda skanky?"

"So, you're the slayer?" Angel asked before Giles could respond, his eyes raking contemptuously down her body. The contempt was feigned. Another thing the repeated head trauma had done for him? It had given him a healthy respect for the violent tendencies of compact little blonds. "I thought you'd be taller. Or at least have bigger muscles or something."

He was pretty sure the look of disgust the slayer shot at him before returning her attention to Giles was real. He'd need to bring out the backhanded compliments soon. If he could keep her focused on him, Spike wouldn't have a chance to charm his way into being her fighting partner.

"What is this?" the girl was saying to her watcher. "Are you going around telling everyone that I'm the slayer now?"

"Buffy, please, listen, this is important. This man, Angel, is an ensouled vampire, and he, he has some very vital information for us."

"Ensouled? He has a soul?" Buffy – what kind of name was Buffy? – stared at him, her eyes wide and expression strangely hopeful. "Can… can vampires with souls be good? And do things like… like catch and release their prey?"

"There's no plural," Angel said with a sinking sensation made worse when he noticed the cross necklace she was wearing. It looked suspiciously like the one Dru had insisted they get for "Sunshine." "I'm the only vampire with a soul."

"Oh."

The disappointment on her face was yet more proof, as if the necklace and mention of catch and release hadn't been. She'd somehow met Spike. Fighting demons to train the minions and sell the parts to magic shops was one thing. But slayers? They attracted trouble the way flames attracted moths. His idiot grandchild's reckless need for excitement was going to get him involved in the slayer's sacred duty again, and then most likely dusted.

"There is, however," Giles started, looking at his charge intently, "an associate of Angel's who has exclusively lived on blood from victims left alive afterwards. He has done good for nearly a century without the benefit of a soul, which seems even more remarkable. Crowley told me he'd very likely be willing to, to assist you in your duty as a slayer. You wouldn't have to fight alone."

Angel watched, feeling a little sick as emotions played across the girl's face. Hope, longing, fear, relief, confusion. The poor kid. What was it like to be destined to die young in a solitary battle against evil? He felt his stance softening a little.

"This 'associate' of yours… is he a bleached blond with a se- annoying British accent?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah," Angel said quietly. Damn it. He shouldn't be doing this. "That's Spike, he of the many sexnoying attributes."

The girl turned bright red and whirled around to lean on the railing, gazing down at the dancers below. She stiffened suddenly and rose up on her toes as she leaned more over the edge.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Bad Willow, no seizing the moment with that guy!"

Both Giles and Angel called after her, but Buffy darted away, gone before they could tell her about the Master and his plans.

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Spike was limping again as he walked through Sunnydale with Joyce and Dawn at his side. The girl was clutching a notebook that looked dismayingly like one of his while her mother kept giving him worried, pinch-lipped looks. He'd gotten to the hotel room to find them cowering in a corner, watching in terror as his poor Drusilla was in the throes of a flashback to the things Angel had done to her sisters.

He'd sent the kiddies and the humans off to one of the suite's bedrooms before offering himself as a target for Dru's sorrow and rage. It was a good thing he'd stopped for those snacks at the college. With all that blood, the holy water and cross burns would heal almost as fast as the bruises and bites.

Now his princess was sleeping peacefully – her mental ghosts temporarily satisfied that someone had paid the price for the terror and pain – and he was escorting the slayer's family home. He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye just in time to catch the girl looking at the first page of the notebook.

"Give that here," he growled, snatching it from her.

He flipped through it until he found where her handwriting began, then ripped out the pages covered in his own and handed it back to her. Dru had given her the notebook for a reason. It may have been just random craziness, but he tried not to just assume with Dru. Hell, he even kept a piece of chalk in his pocket just in case she'd been on to something about the hopscotching badgers.

He stared at the pages in his hand for a moment, thinking of ripping them up. It was awful dreck, the whole lot of it. He got ready to tear it all up, but stopped. Angel did like the stuff. Of course, Angel liked Barry Manilow, so that wasn't exactly a resounding endorsement. Still, though…. He sighed, folded the pages of horrible poetry, and stuffed them into his pocket.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the slayer's mother stealing more glances at him before she finally cleared her throat and spoke.

"Does she… uh… does she do things like that to you often?"

He stared at her in confusion for a second before figuring out what she was going on about. She was worried about Dru beating on him, like he was some terrified little house wife with an abusive husband. That was bloody adorable. He laughed and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't you worry about me, pet. Liked most of it, yeah? And what I didn't…." He shrugged. "I liked that in a different way. She needed to hurt someone. Feels good to give someone you love what they need."

He glanced at Dawn, suddenly realizing she was a bit young to hear that sort of thing. Her mum probably would have verbally – or possibly even physically – smacked him one for it if she wasn't dealing with information overload. Oh well, coddling the chit wouldn't really do her any favors.

The little girl looked up at him, her big blue eyes wide and solemn. "What does Buffy need? So she can fight the bad vampires?"

"Buffy won't be fighting any bad vampires," Joyce said fiercely, her eyes blazing with protective fury.

 _She has to,_ Spike thought, but wisely kept his mouth closed for the moment. She was going to have to come to terms with it, but that was best done in the safety and comfort of her own home. They finished the rest of the trip in silence, the only sounds before they entered the home Spike's request for an invite and Joyce's affirmative response.

"If you wanna go ahead and get the bit to bed, I'll make you a cuppa," he said quietly, knowing she'd want to wait up for her other daughter.

"You know how to make…." She stopped at his "are you completely sodding _daft_ , woman?" look and shook her head with a slight smile. "Of course you do."

She took Dawn upstairs, leaving Spike to rummage about in her kitchen. _Buffy, huh?_ he thought as he found the kettle and filled it with water. It was an incredible silly name, but seemed weirdly fitting the more he thought it. _Buffy._

By the time he'd finished making two cups of tea, Joyce was back downstairs and waiting on the couch.

"I know this has to all be pretty strange for you," he said, sitting next to her and handing her a cup of tea. He gave a nod at her murmured thanks. "Findin' out about vampires and that your eldest is their boogeyman all in one night."

"It is strange," she agreed. "There was a man… vampire, I guess. Mis… _Drusilla_ saved us. Then she did something to me and took us to that hotel. She kept saying that everything would be alright. That her boy would keep my girls safe." She looked intently at him. "Are you her boy?"

"Yeah, I am," Spike confirmed. "An' I will, you know. Keep 'em safe. As much as I can."

"I don't want Buffy to be this, this _slayer_. I just want her to be a normal girl." Her voice was remarkably calm, but her scent and the way her hands shook as she sipped her tea gave her away.

"Course you do. That's how good mums are. They want to protect their kids." He cocked his head, studying her and trying to come up with something she'd understand. "First time Buffy fell and skinned her knee, you go to her as fast as you could, yeah?"

"Of course," she said, glaring at him for even daring the question.

"That's your instinct as a mum. Your girl's hurt, you go to her. If she's in danger, you defend. Slayer's instincts are like that, but her kids are all the innocent little snacks running about. You can't hold her back, no matter how much you want. If she has to waste energy sneakin' around you, that's less energy she has for the fight. So you gotta decide right now, Joyce. You gonna help your girl live as long as she can…? Or are you gonna help her into an early grave?"

 **…**

* * *

 **...**

Buffy shivered and hugged herself as she headed towards home, her steps leaden. Jesse was missing. She'd looked and looked, but she hadn't been able to find him. Willow and Xander knew she was the slayer, there was a vampire with a soul – and apparently another vampire who would help her just because… _because_ – and most importantly, Jesse was _gone_. She hadn't been able to save him.

A potential friend was gone, and she had almost died. She reached up to grab the cross necklace Spike had given her, supposedly a gift from his mysterious lady. That huge vampire would have killed her if not for it.

 _I'll have to thank him when I see him again,_ she thought numbly as she approached her house. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, when she saw the lights on in the living room. Oh god, her mom was still awake. Why was her mom still awake? She'd been too caught up in the problems with Dad to really pay attention to Buffy's comings and goings, and she picked _tonight_ to suddenly care?

Instead of climbing up into her room, she went to the front door, bracing herself for the yelling she knew would start once she got inside. Instead, she was greeted by two calm expressions and a sudden, mind-numbing terror that eclipsed everything else she'd felt that night. Her mom was sitting on the couch with Spike. A vampire who supposedly didn't kill and would help her. But she only had Giles's word for that, and his information was secondhand.

"Mom…." Her voice came out as a hoarse croak. She swallowed again, trying to moisten her throat again. "Mom, you need to come over here."

Mom and Spike just looked at her a moment, then Spike moved. She tensed, ready to fight, but the vampire just slowly stood up and backed away, leaving her mother a clear path to the door.

"It's okay, pet," he said softly. "Didn't hurt your mum. She and little sis got in a spot of trouble, and I brought 'em home is all."

"It really is okay, Buffy," her mom said, getting up from the couch and slowly approaching her. "His… uh… lady friend saved Dawnie and took us home with her for a little bit. She wanted to show your sister her dolls. Spike made sure we both got home safely."

Her mother reached her at that point and took her hands in her own, gently squeezing. "I know, honey. About you being the slayer. I…." She took a deep breath and brushed a lock of hair back from Buffy's face. "Sweetie, it's going to be hard – you're my baby, and I can't stand the thought of you in danger – but I'm going to do my best to support you in this. And Spike is going to watch your back, if you'll let him."

Buffy stared at her mom, her eyes wide. She knew? And she was going to support her in her calling. She forced back a sob as she collapsed into her mother's arms. It had been so hard in L.A., having to sneak around to kill the vampires. She'd felt so alone.

She let herself bask in the warmth of maternal support for only a few seconds before looking at Spike. He was still standing back out of the way. She didn't know what his game was, but she intended to find out.

"Why do you want to help me? What's in it for you?"

Spike shrugged and stared at her, his face staying human but a cold, predatory light seeming to fill his eyes. "I could give you some pretty speech about the greater good and all that rot, but we both know that'd be a lie. Honestly, I don't give a toss about good or evil. Sod all that. I just wanna have fun. Killing humans? It's too easy. Keeping them alive? That's a game. And then there's demons. Lot of them are a challenge to fight and a hell of a lot of fun to kill. Slayers bring out all the nasties. The longer you live, the longer I get to play."

Something about the stark honesty of his words set her at ease. She _had_ been expecting a pretty speech, and Spike was right; she would have known it for a lie. She took a deep breath, let go of her mother, and crossed the living room to stand in front of Spike.

"The vampires took a potential friend. I need to find him. You want to play? Let's go play." She thrust her hand out defiantly.

Spike smiled and took her hand in his, shaking it. "Whatever you say… partner?"

She nodded in response to his questioning tone and turned towards the stairs. "I've got weapons up in my room."

They went up the stairs together, the first steps on their journey towards a partnership and friendship.


	3. Chapter 3

**Repercussions**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Author's Note:** This starts up basically during the season four episode The Initiative. Broody McHairgel comes from the wonderful mind of Gaia-VoidMother. Beta read by the awesome Sigyn.

 **…**

She felt him before she saw him, a familiar tingle along her nerves as she made her way towards her dorm. Buffy turned and followed her senses. Most vampires she couldn't pinpoint as easily, but most vampires hadn't been one of her best friends for two years.

It didn't take long to find him, but once she did, she stayed back and just watched. He was talking quietly with a young woman about her own age, his voice too soft for her to hear. The girl looked really freaked out, but her fear turned to confusion when Spike reached into his pocket and handed her a stake. Then he slowly backed away from her, giving her space to run if she felt the need.

After a moment of hesitation, she followed him, tilting her head to shyly expose her neck. Spike shook his head and gently took her wrist, pulling her arm mostly straight before nuzzling along the inner length of it. He kissed the vein at her elbow, then looked at her, one brow raised in a question. At her nod, he vamped out and bit her.

Buffy looked away at that point, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur. By the time she looked back, he was waving off the girl's attempt to give him the stake back. They talked for a few minutes more, the girl suddenly looking embarrassed and patting her pockets. Spike laughed and handed her a few dollars before turning away and heading in Buffy's direction.

"Remember, pet, you stake anyone else tries to take your blood," he called over his shoulder. "More likely to take all of it."

Once he reached Buffy, they walked together side-by-side in companionable silence. She had known he got blood from willing college girls, but she'd never actually watched him do it before.

"What was with the money?" she asked. That had been kind of weird, considering how much he was disgusted by the suck houses. And wasn't it usually the vampires who got paid in those?

"She wanted to know if I had change for a twenty so she could get something from the snack machine. I just gave her some dosh for it," Spike replied with a touch of amusement.

Buffy had to admit it was kind of funny. Girl finds out about vampires, girl feeds vampire, then girl asks vampire if he can break a twenty.

 _Girl feeds vampire…._ She glanced at Spike shyly. She'd always kind of wondered what it was like, but it had never really come up before. What did the girls get out of it? What did the people at the suck houses get out of it?

"What's it like?" she suddenly blurted out, her cheeks reddening. _Oh god, I must sound like such a child._ She pushed on anyway. "The… the blood? Giving and… um taking it? I mean, you both seemed to…. I could…."

She stopped talking, swallowing hard and coming to a standstill as Spike gently took her hand in his. "You could what, pet? Give me some of your blood?" he asked, his voice husky. "You don't really want to offer, love."

"Why not?"

He rubbed his cheek against the veins in her wrist, gazing at her with eyes that were still human-blue but clearly those of a predator. "Every time I feed, I hold the power of life and death over someone. And every time, the desire to kill them is greater than the desire to let them live."

"But you do," she whispered, staring at him wide-eyed. She never really forgot what he was, but sometimes she forgot that he was more wildcat than housecat. He'd roll over and let you rub his belly, but in the back of his mind, he'd still be thinking of you as lunch. "You do let them live."

"I do," he agreed, letting go of her wrist. Part of her wanted to put some distance between them while another part wanted to move even closer. She stayed put. "Why would you want to offer, anyway?"

"Just… I don't know. You seem to share something with those girls…"

"The girls are dead to me." His voice was harsh, yet oddly gentle. "It's the only way I can let them live. They're dead to me for two months, when they have enough blood and are just different enough than they were for me to feed on them again."

"And if you fed from me…."

"Don't tempt me, Slayer. I may have gone all over reformed, but I spent twenty years as a very bad boy. Killin' one of your sisters was my last hurrah, as it were." He closed his eyes and shuddered slightly, but not in distress. It was more like he was remembering something pleasant. His eyes opened again, staring right into her own. "I'd want more than a pint, kitten."

"So…." She swallowed again, her mouth and throat suddenly desert dry. "You don't want my blood because you wouldn't be able to keep from killing me?"

He leaned forward, lightly pressing his forehead against hers while his hands cupped her cheeks. "I don't want your blood because you aren't food. You're _Buffy._ "

After a moment, he stepped away from her and they continued walking together, the easy companionship between them now awkward and uncomfortable. After a while, the sheer familiarity of him by her side as they traveled through the darkness began to ease things between them.

"When did you get into town?" she finally asked, breaking the last of the tension. Other than Gwen and Jesse's wedding – which had required the help of a demon law firm since they were both vampires who had been turned as minors – she hadn't seen him since he'd taken away a bunch of the kids turned during the Mayor's Ascension.

"Little before dawn, actually. Julie said you called asking about commando types. Thought I'd drop by for a visit," Spike said with a shrug.

Buffy's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. His body language was off, closed in when he was usually fairly open, and he was just walking along beside her without any unnecessary movements. That was just weird and wrong for a guy who seemed like he'd explode from energy buildup if he had to hold still for too long.

"Julie said there hadn't been any soldiers running around L.A. as far as she knew. If you had more information, you could have just called."

Not that she was upset he'd showed up. The circumstances were just odd. He'd come into town at the last possible moment and had gone the entire day without letting any of them know he was around. She wasn't even sure if he'd intended her to find him tonight or if it had just been a coincidence.

He just shrugged. "Dru's been havin' visions of soldier types and demons in cages. She and Angel should be in town in a couple hours."

Buffy stopped and stared. Spike never went anywhere without Dru, and Angel got antsy if the blond vampire wasn't around. Something was seriously wrong.

"Did you run away from home or something?" she asked, only half joking.

That got a small, slightly pained smile from him. "Kind of. Dru has times when….Um…. Well… it's…." He trailed off, looking at her hesitantly.

"Hey, I'm in college now. I'm all grown up Buffy, so you can talk about grownup things with me."

As funny as it had been watching a one hundred plus year old vampire get lectured by her mom about inappropriate subject matters with her teenage daughter, she'd missed the casual way he'd just sort of assumed she was mature enough to handle anything. She was the Slayer. She killed things on a regular basis; she could handle being talked to as if she were an adult.

Spike tilted his head, studying her for several moments before going on with he'd been saying. "Sometimes Dru needs things Angel is best at giving her. And then it leads to sex. If I'm there…. Well, it's just best if I'm not there for it. Then I don't have to say no to what she wants. Normally I stay around L.A. This time I just came here instead. Called them when I got to the hotel."

Buffy frowned and started walking towards her dorm again. She had known Dru wasn't faithful to Spike, but with Angel? She had always kind of thought he was gay, considering the way he was always looking at Spike. Of course, Spike _was_ easy on the eyes. Her instinct was to ask for more info, but she curbed it. Things were already leaning towards the awkward.

"So, what have you been up to, pet?" Spike asked, breaking the slightly uncomfortable mood. "Any new boyfriends?"

"Ugh, no. I think I've just about given up on normal boys. They tend to either think I'm crazy or get scared off by the crazy around me. Sometimes both."

There was also the problem of being too picky. She wanted a guy who could banter with her, hold his own in a sparring match, and make her laugh. Someone tough and swaggering who wasn't afraid to admit he liked cuddles. _In other words, me and Angel should totally form The We Want Dru's Man Club_ , she thought wryly.

"I'm beginning to think at this point that I should just date Angel," she joked. "At least he's a thing that goes bump in the night and won't get the wiggins over my life."

She was worried for a second that bringing up Angel had been a bad idea, but Spike laughed.

"Oh god, that would be a disaster," he said, eyes bright with amusement. He started bouncing a little as he walked, his usual energy returning. "You two have very little in common. And then there's the thing with his nightmares. I can just imagine it now, the first time you want to actually sleep together and not just shag. 'Darling Buffums, my sweet,'" he lowered his voice and batted his eyes at her, "'I am a tormented creature who has constant nightmares. In order to sleep, I need the cuddliest, manliest, handsomest-'"

"Don't forget the most modest," Buffy cut in. "And he better not actually try batting his eyes at me. Unlike you, he doesn't have the lashes for it."

Spike grinned at her and continued. '"And most modest vampire in all of history to snuggle into bed with me, along with his girlfriend. You'd be totally okay with that, right?' Though to be fair, if he got over his little crush and found someone, he wouldn't need me anymore."

There was an odd tone to his voice, as if not being needed by Angel would be both upsetting and a relief. Spike was the type of person who needed to be needed, to take care of others. _But who takes care of the caretaker?_ Buffy wondered suddenly. It had to get exhausting sometimes, to be the one who was leaned on all the time. She felt that way too, the weight of being the Slayer on her shoulders.

All too soon, they reached her dorm. She looked at it reluctantly, then at Spike. "I'm planning on taking Will to a frat party tonight. There was this thing with Oz, and now he's gone off to find himself or something. Ms. Calendar gave her a couple of new spells to study to make her feel better, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"And you're hoping a bit of out and about time will cheer her up? Might do it." Spike tilted his head slightly as something occurred to him. "Should try something like that with Broody McHairgel. Take him to the cinema and maybe get him out of the 'the world keeps changing' funk he's been in for the past couple of years." He grinned impishly. "Could make out with him a bit and get the prudes all in a tizzy."

"You'd be more likely to get people wanting to take pictures," Buffy said with a laugh. Weird commandos horning in on her turf, a heartbroken best friend, even the time they'd had to stop the Anointed One and Darla from trying to awaken Acathla, none of it ever seemed quite as dire as it should have with Spike by her side. "Do you think you could-"

"Take your patrol? No worries, pet, I've got this. Willow needs you right now."

She smiled and hugged him in thanks, melting a little inside as he returned the hug and kissed her lightly on the top of the head. She knew he didn't mean anything by it – that Spike was just casually affectionate with the people he cared about – but she liked to at least pretend it was more than that where she was concerned.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Angel carried their luggage into the hotel suite Spike had reserved for them, Drusilla drifting along behind him with Miss Edith clutched to her chest. A blanket cloaked the vampiress, hiding the dried blood and still healing wounds. He wished he could have cleaned her up – wished even more that she didn't sometimes need the kind of torture and degradation he'd put her through both before and after turning her – but that would have only distressed her.

Spike could – and often did – hurt Dru, but only when it was a kinky game, when there was as much pleasure as pain involved for both of them. Sometimes, though, she needed to be treated like a thing, a canvass for sadistic art that mattered only for the pain she could feel. Angel loathed himself for it, but he could still give her what she needed, even with the soul.

All he had to do was remind himself of all of the things he had done to her and of all of the children she had killed because of him, then let his self-hate pour out on the madwoman. Every cut, every splash of holy water, every slowly broken bone, and every artfully placed bruise was a blow to his soul. And then he would use her, the way she wanted him to, with none of the love or tenderness that was there even in her most violent couplings with Spike. She was just a body, a vessel for his pain and hate.

He despised himself for it, but if Dru didn't get what she needed, she would shriek and hurt herself. The last time he'd tried to deny her, she'd nearly gouged her own eyes out.

A sudden hiss pulled him from within himself, and he turned to look at Dru. Her blanket had fallen to the floor, and she was holding Miss Edith out at arm's length, glaring at her.

"You mustn't tell tales," she spat, flinging the doll onto the couch. "There will be no tea and cakes for you. Naughty liars get only bread and water."

"Dru? What's wrong? Did you see something?" Angel asked gently.

"True love never dies," Drusilla murmured, her fingers fluttering and grasping at the air. "It can transmute, fade from one form to another, but it does not die. The pixies and the stars agree. Only spiteful Miss Edith says otherwise." She turned to face the door, one hand coming to tap at her temple in agitation, the long nails drawing blood. "I must…. I must tend to my garden. The daisies must be planted. The daisy boy will be back soon, and I've no flowers for him at all."

She picked up her blanket and draped it over herself once more, swaying towards the door, her movements as graceful as they could be with her injuries. She'd stay if her told her to, but she'd only end up hurting herself if he tried to keep her cooped up right now. She'd be back soon enough.

He walked past the couch – not wanting to move Dru's doll – and dropped onto the loveseat with a sigh, his head on one armrest while his calves were propped up on the other. He drifted into sleep, his mind pulled back into the same nightmares he'd endured during the brief rest of the day. He watched helplessly as a distorted version of himself did unspeakably vile things to Dru's sisters.

They stared at him accusingly, the youngest reaching out with maimed, bloodied hands towards his face. Her mutilated fingers against his lips suddenly became a mouth pressed to his own. A tongue sought and was granted entrance to slowly and sensually explore. The segue from troubled sleep to arousing reality was as horrifying in its own way as the nightmare, the touch of the tortured girl flowing into the familiar feel of the body pressing down on him.

He moaned into the kiss, instinctively reaching up to wrap his arms around the other person. He was only allowed to touch, to hold, for the briefest moment before the body pulled away, then squirmed between him and the back of the loveseat. His eyes opened just in time for him to be unceremoniously shoved to the floor.

"Where's Dru?" Spike asked, peering down at him from the loveseat.

"She said she needed to tend to her garden. With the mood she was in, I figured it was best to let her just go outside and play for a bit," Angel explained as he got to his feet.

Spike sat up and moved to one side of the furniture, his arm stretched along the top and one brow raised in obvious invitation. Angel sat beside him, curling his body so he could snuggle more easily against the smaller man. The arm slid down from the back of the loveseat to curve along his shoulders, holding him close and lightly petting.

"Bad dreams again, ducks?" he murmured sympathetically.

Angel nodded against Spike's chest, sighing and letting all of the tension drain away as his hair was nuzzled. He'd been in a bad place for the past couple of years, and he knew it. It went in cycles for him. His thoughts drifted to the offer he'd been given a few months ago. At the time, he'd been adamantly against it, now though….

"Do you think I should do it?" he asked. "Help that Doyle guy with his visions?"

"You know the answer to that, pet. You always do better when you've a mission, when you're out and about with the humans."

"They die so quickly," Angel whispered. He didn't make friends as easily as Spike, couldn't fling his entire being into friendships the way the younger vampire did.

"That they do," Spike said quietly. "They're candle flames. Any little thing can put 'em out, but they burn so bright while they go. Can't help but wanna dance with their flames, even though it hurts when they go out. Even though you wanna drink them down, take that heat and make it part of yourself."

The door opened, and just like that, Angel was abandoned as Dru wandered in, a small clutch of wildflowers in her hands. Her blanket fluttered to the floor, revealing dirt streaked in with the dried blood.

"Look at you, kitten, all a mess," Spike said, carefully stroking her cheek. She nuzzled his palm and smiled, holding the flowers out to him.

"Will you still love me when you don't know I'm here?" she asked as he took the floral offering.

"Of course I will, pet. I'll always love you. Forever and ever, my sweet," he said, his tone soothing and loving.

"Miss Edith said you wouldn't. The stars and pixies say it isn't so."

"Well then, Miss Edith is a filthy liar, isn't she?" He moved to the kitchen and filled a glass halfway with water before putting the flowers in it. "Let's get you all cleaned up, princess. If you're good and let me brush your hair after, I'll read you a story."

She smiled, her face lighting up in a way that made Angel's heart ache as he watched the two of them. "Will you sing to me in the bath, my pretty daisy boy?"

"'Course I will."

Spike took Drusilla's hands in his and slowly danced with her down the hallway towards the bathroom, humming and singing little snatches of songs to her along the way. The door closed behind them, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts.

 **…**

* * *

 **…**

Maggie Walsh studied the man sitting across from her as she considered his proposition. He was an older man, well dressed, with a sense of power about him. He could be an ally in her work, or an enemy, depending on how this meeting went.

"You're willing to provide that much funding just for one specific creature?" she asked, wondering what made this particular hostile sub-terrestrial so important.

"Yes, I am," the man replied in his upper class British accent. "This HST as I believe you call them is of great interest to my organization. All we ask is that you capture him and implant the behavior modification chip with the extra parameters we have asked for before handing him over to us. My people know quite a lot about your operation, including information about Hostile 19. Her name is Darla, and she's both traveled with and fought against the target. She can provide valuable knowledge on how best to capture him."

Walsh looked once more at the picture she'd been presented with. A man in black with bleach blond hair. He didn't seem like he'd be too much trouble for her boys.

"You have a deal, Mr. Travers."


End file.
